Razor's Edge
by ephemereal
Summary: PostEvolution. All that is certain is that darkness is still ahead.
1. Chapter 1

**Razor's Edge**

_Life and death are balanced on the edge of a razor. Homer, Iliad_

_**Authors' Note: **This is a post-Evolution fic co-authored by **ephemereal** and **Zelda**. Who's writing what, you ask? That's for you to figure out. These characters are not ours and never will be. No copyright infringement is intended. We hope very much that you enjoy. _

**Chapter One**

_To himself everyone is immortal; he may know that he is going to die, but he can never know that he is dead. Samuel Butler_

There was something in the shadows, following her. Selene was sure of it. It was nearly dusk, and the red ball of sun that occasionally peeked out behind thick clusters of ominous black clouds was enough to make her eyes burn. It couldn't hurt her anymore, not truly, but she didn't think she'd ever get used to seeing it again. Thick rows of thorny bushes lined the path back to the small hotel where she'd left Michael, and the unsettling rustling was coming from there.

Clutching the bag of precious supplies she was carrying closer to her side, Selene eyed the foliage suspiciously, painfully aware that she had no guns or ammunition with her. It was bad enough having to walk around in torn leather, still speckled with blood in some places. She looked like some twistedly futuristic hobo, but luckily there were very few people out and about in light of the impending storm. A crack of lightning lit up the horizon as punctuation to her thought.

The rustling grew louder as she neared the hotel, and she caught a glimpse of something dark, far off in the underbrush. Selene stopped in her tracks, preparing to put the bag down and fight. One lycan she could probably handle on her own, though hand-to-hand, her odds were bad. Not to mention the stir it would cause if she were to start a fight. But if one of them had managed to get this close, it would be able to follow her scent back to the hotel. Running was not an option either.

The sun passed behind a cloud as she stood waiting, and the day grew unsettlingly dark. _What a cliché this is, _thought Selene, though it did absolutely nothing to quell the anxiety clenching her stomach. A distinct snap told her that her pursuer was nearing the edge of the bushes. Setting down the bag at last, Selene took her best defensive stance and held her breath. Whatever would be now, would be. Not two days before, she'd been completely resigned to her own death.

A fresh peal of thunder rolled over her ears at the exact moment that a scruffy black head emerged from the leaves, followed by a matching body and underscored by a chorus of whining. A stray dog. Selene gave a growl of frustration as the pathetic animal began nosing at the bag she'd set on the ground, and fought the urge to kick it. No reason this pest should have to suffer for her own stupidity, after all. She contemplated its worth as food for a moment, then dismissed the idea. She'd killed enough innocents already.

Pushing the dog out of the way, Selene retrieved her bag and continued the small stretch remaining back to the hotel. The storm broke just as she got her key into the lock. Inside, the blinds were drawn, but ineffectively, casting strange shadows over Michael's sleeping form. Silently, she thanked whatever power had gotten them this far that he hadn't been attacked during her absence. It had been risky leaving him defenseless, but she hadn't had a choice.

Suddenly exhausted in the wake of adrenaline, she quickly pulled on the new clothes she'd procured and deposited the ruined corset and bodysuit into the trash, not allowing herself time to think about what she was doing. Sentimentality was a luxury she could not afford at the moment. Coming back into the main room, Selene sat on the edge of the bed, listening to the rain outside.

Michael's eyelids fluttered in response to her weight, and he groaned a little, half awake. Selene shifted uncomfortably, wanting him awake but loathe to interrupt his much-needed rest. He'd been out cold practically since the moment they'd arrived at the hotel. And rightfully so, she had to keep reminding herself. Regeneration took a lot of energy, and he'd already expended more than she'd known was possible.

"Selene?" His voice was slurred with sleep, and she had to force herself not to show him just how endearing it was. _I can't deal with that now. Not yet. Not until we're safe. _

"You okay?"

She nodded, pulling her feet up onto the bed and balancing on one elbow. He looked blearily at her and smiled, reminding her strangely of the first time he'd woken under her gaze, in her room at the mansion. But that was all gone now. Destroyed. "How are you feeling?"

"Better than you, by the looks of it." Michael rolled onto his side and leaned up, kissing her very gently. "Kinda sore."

Selene sighed as he pulled away and let her head fall onto the pillow beside him. The little sleep she'd had time to get had been interrupted by flashes of what were undoubtedly Corvinus' memories and worry over Michael's injuries, all of which had resulted in the worst headache she'd had in years. She knew in the back of her mind that it went deeper even than that, that what she was experiencing was more than likely a physical reaction to the plethora of emotions she wasn't allowing herself to feel. She'd been there before. More times than she'd readily admit.

"Here." Selene reached over to the bedside table and retrieved the clothes she'd managed to find for him, an outfit identical to the one she was now wearing. She'd been gone nearly a full twelve hours, though she guessed he'd been asleep the entire time. "Crude, I know, but it was the best I could do."

The little mountain town they'd made it to was barely more than a village, really. One ancient-looking hotel, a butcher's shop, a bakery, some rundown homes, and a general store, where she'd gotten the clothes. It would make for a good hiding spot until they could rest enough to figure out their next step, but Selene was used to the city, and the slow pace of country life was already beginning to grow tiresome after two full days. She looked at the new clothes as Michael examined them: an oversized black t-shirt and a pair of men's pants made of some kind of flimsy cotton material Selene was sure she could rip through with her nails. An outfit she ordinarily couldn't have been coerced into wearing. Given the state of their previous attire, however, it would just have to do until they could find something more suitable.

"Thanks," said Michael grinning as he pulled the shirt over his head, ever compliant. He looked so disarmingly human and so lost that she had to struggle to picture him as the beast he'd been just hours before.

_Concentrate on that. He's powerful. He can defend himself._

Selene took the robe he'd discarded and dropped it distastefully into the closet, not bothering to put it back up on a hanger. Nothing about the room they were paying minimum rate for had been particularly well-prepared, and Selene made a habit of repaying service in kind. Michael was seated on the bed when she turned around again, looking as though he was waiting for further instructions from her.

Unsure of what to tell him, she sat on the bed beside him instead. A hint of surprise registered on his face, still so easy to read even in the aftermath of his Change.

_That'll be your greatest weakness if you don't learn to conceal it very quickly_, thought Selene, though the idea of him becoming any less human than he was now saddened her.

"What are we doing?" asked Michael at last, the inevitable question she'd known would come if she gave him long enough to voice it.

"Going back to sleep," said Selene, knowing it wasn't the answer he wanted. _I'm not going to answer _that_. Not now. _She swung her legs back up onto the bed, lying half on her side, half on her stomach, and feeling very out of sorts. Michael gave her a look of helplessness, and flopped back against his side of the bed, strands of hair falling into his face and hiding his eyes. "We'll both need to be well-rested."

"For what?" He blew at his wayward bangs uselessly, grimacing as they immediately flopped back into his face.

Selene frowned sympathetically, scratching at the neckline of her new shirt. Somehow, though it was obscenely large, the thing also managed to be uncomfortably itchy.

"You okay?" Michael asked again, and she realized it must have been more than a minute since he'd asked.

"Fine!" she snapped, more harshly than she'd meant.

"You just looked…far off," he said, and Selene could practically hear the flinch in his voice. She grabbed a handful of bedspread and dug her short nails in, suddenly hating that he was still afraid of her. It had been a power trip at first, and she wouldn't have had it any other way coming from a human like him. But now…now it just reminded her that she truly was alone in her world. She'd made damn sure of that.

"We need to be well-rested so that we can leave as soon as word arrives," said Selene sharply.

"Word from what?" He sat up, looking utterly lost. "I thought the entire coven was destroyed?"

"It was," said Selene tiredly. She was unaccustomed to explaining her ways of life, having been banned from training underlings centuries ago after she'd shown her ineptitude as a teacher. "But there are—were—two great covens. After the New World was adequately settled, Viktor decided it was to our advantage to have a power there. And so he split his coven, placing Amelia in charge of the one established overseas. New York, to be exact." There was a pained expression on his face, she noted, and Selene studied him carefully. _The photos. I know you, Michael. _

"Okay, but why would they be any more sympathetic to us? I thought every vampire and lycan in the world was supposed to be on our tail now."

He sounded hurt and bitter, and Selene felt a momentary pang of guilt over some of the things she'd told him. She had been known to exaggerate, particularly when it was urgent that she get her way. _I've only done what was necessary to survive. _

"Viktor and Markus were only two of our three elders," said Selene carefully. "The third, Amelia, was killed by lycans the same night you came to the mansion. A direct result of Kraven's…aspirations. I've appealed to them for sanctuary. My hope is that they'll be sympathetic since they were the victims of deceit as well."

"And if they aren't?" Michael seemed to regret the question the moment the words were out of his mouth, but Selene had to admit that he was only voicing the same concern that had been pounding in her head for the past two days.

She shook her head and pressed two fingers to the bridge of her nose, grimacing at the pain that seemed to be radiating from behind her eyes. "I don't know."

Michael sat up further and placed one hand on the small of her back, working long fingers into the cramped muscles there. Selene took hold of his wrist, about to stop him, then thought better of it. He needed the comfort of physical contact, she told herself, even if she didn't. She wouldn't deny him that little concession.

"I wasn't dead, you know," said Michael after a long moment. His voice sounded as far away as she felt. "Not really. Or maybe I was, but it sure as hell didn't feel like it. I mean, how would I know, anyway?"

"How do you mean?" asked Selene, dreading his answer. She closed her eyes, willing herself not to see his limbs hanging limp, the skin and bone of his chest brutally shredded. The metal stake that had gone clear through his body. Even Corvinus's memories were preferable to that certain one of her own.

"I could see it all. And hear it. But I wasn't me." Michael paused, brushed a hand across his eyes. "I wasn't…anything."

Selene drew in a slow breath, the gravity of his statement sinking in. She was ashamed enough of the way she'd acted…and if Michael knew? Then he knew her in ways that changed everything.

"You saw?" she said after a long moment, hoping against hope that she'd misunderstood.

"Everything," said Michael. The look he gave her was filled with such untainted hope that she suddenly felt every day of her six centuries like a weight on her back. He paused for a moment, bit his lip, practically shaking with doubt. "You know I'd do the same for you. Fight to the death."

"Michael, you already have."

"And I'd do it all over again."

_I can't deal with you now. Not when you say things like that. _Selene gave him a look, hoping he'd catch the hint. "Go back to sleep, Michael. You need your rest." She rolled over so that her back was to him and turned her face into one arm, assuming the conversation would end there.

The next thing she felt was his hands on her shoulders, gently coaxing her to roll back towards him. When she failed to oblige, his lips came down very softly on the back of her neck, his startlingly warm breath tickling the delicate skin there. Selene swatted at him blindly with her free hand, but he simply took hold of her wrist and began kissing it instead.

"What are you doing?" she muttered at last, trying to sound irritated and failing miserably. In fact, what came out sounded alarmingly like whining, a crime she simply couldn't abide in anyone else.

"Fighting for you," he said simply.

Selene exhaled sharply, because there was no other way to express the painful stab of emotion his words provoked without giving her own vulnerability away. Though, curse him, he probably knew already. Reading her mind seemed to be just one of his uncanny new talents.

"I'm tired," she insisted, still refusing to look at him. It was true, yes, but it certainly wasn't the reason she wished he'd leave her alone. _Your heart was in shreds. I could barely tell where it had been._

"I'm not dead now," Michael insisted, and she wondered for a moment whether she'd said the words aloud. "Come on, talk to me. Just a few minutes. I'm not used to so much quiet."

"Quiet is the way I am," said Selene bitterly. "You don't want me to talk."

"And how can you be sure of that?" He really was determined, for once, and she wondered for a moment how she'd thought him afraid of her just minutes before. She wasn't sure whether she liked this new, confident side of Michael. It could be useful strategically, she told herself, but she wouldn't be able to keep hiding herself if he kept pushing this way.

_Because if I talk, sooner or later you'll find out that I'm not what you think. _"Because I highly doubt you'd be able to keep up your end of the conversation." It was cruel and she knew it, but Selene hoped he'd be stung enough to back off.

His lips were against her ear so quickly and silently that she nearly jumped, and for a moment she was reminded that despite everything else, Michael was still a _lycan_ underneath. Silently, she chided herself for forgetting that crucial fact.

"Try me." Selene shivered this time despite herself, and pulled away sharply, sitting up. _Please, Michael. Please don't do this to me. You won't like what you find._

She got up and stalked over to the window, staring at the rain that was coming down outside as though she could turn it to liquid fire with her eyes. She'd liked the rain at home. It had fit her somehow, and had been strangely comforting. But now they were miles from that place, and could never go back.

_You're acting like a sniveling human child, _she chastised herself, then decided that that was exactly what she felt like. Behind her, Michael was rifling through the bag of supplies she'd brought back from the general store where she'd gotten the clothes. She was tempted to turn around and take it from him just so she'd have something to do, but it would serve no rational purpose, and the last thing she wanted to do was turn into a squabbling adolescent.

"Selene?" He'd found something of interest, obviously, and now felt the need to ask her about it as always. Endearing trait, sometimes; infuriating the rest. Grudgingly, she turned back toward him and made her way over to the bed. He was holding up the newspaper she'd bought and pointing to something on the front page. She'd never much cared what went on outside of her world, but if they were going to get to the New World, they'd have to be passable humans for a few days. She wasn't going to risk blowing their cover on something so simple as national headlines.

"What is it?" Selene snapped, though her heart was no longer in it.

"Look familiar?" He handed the paper over to give her a better look at the picture under the headline. She drew in a breath as she realized what it was.

"The UV bullets," said Selene softly. "That's where they came from."

"Can you read it?" asked Michael, moving to lean over her shoulder.

Selene gave him a look. "Can't you?"

He shrugged, looking at her helplessly. "I've only been here a year. I learned enough to get around. Besides that…the exchange program I was a part of at the hospital was mostly American students. I didn't have much need of language skills." He looked sad all of a sudden, and Selene was almost sorry she'd asked. _It isn't my fault, _she thought almost desperately. _You'd be dead if not for me._

"We're required to learn English to communicate with members of Amelia's coven," said Selene for no particular reason. She folded the newspaper out for a better look. "Yes, I can read it.

"Scientists in an international cooperative are being investigated for a series of tests involving irradiated ammunition. It appears that the ultraviolet bullets we've seen were just the first of a long series of experiments, and the least destructive. The weapons pending investigation are thought to be a serious environmental hazard if used in mass quantities." Selene tossed the newspaper onto the bed, her lip curling in disgust. "Humans will never cease to be hateful, reckless, and dreadfully short-sighted." _And we're no better, _she added silently.

"Have to agree with you there," said Michael, still gazing raptly at the newspaper.

"Amelia's men will need to know about this," continued Selene, suddenly wide awake. "Something should be done."

"Like what?"

"I don't know!" exploded Selene, slamming her fist into the mattress. The frustration was all getting to be too much, and suddenly she wanted very much to tear the horrid comforter to shreds, just to prove that she was still capable.

"Hey, it's okay!" Michael caught her by the wrists again, giving her a look somewhere between fear and sympathy. She realized suddenly that he thought she was going to hit him, and made a visible effort to relax.

"We'll figure it out." Letting go of her wrists, he took hold of her shoulders and very gently pushed her back against the bed, leaning over to kiss her as her head hit the pillow. Selene dug her nails into the back of his shirt, kissing back so hard she tasted blood.

"Jesus Christ," he murmured as he pulled away at last, resting his head against her neck and reminding her suddenly very much of the dog that had frightened her. A lost creature in need of comfort.

Selene had the sudden urge to find that dog and bring it inside so it could stay dry. She'd rescued animals often as a child. It was a thought that hadn't even occurred to her in over six hundred years.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two**

_Nobody realizes that some people expend tremendous energy merely to be normal. Albert Camus_

The airport was small and dirty. A strange smell, a mix of jet fuel and stale food, assaulted Michael's nose. The big airplane was sitting dutifully outside, barely visible through the dirty glass as it was loaded for the flight. He glanced briefly at Selene, who sat beside him on the bench in the terminal. Her face was blank as it always seemed to be.

"Are you sure this is safe?" he asked her for the umpteenth time that day. "I'm not liking the looks of this place."

Selene shot him a glare. "Of course not. You're afraid."

"I am not. How many times do I have to tell you that?"

She chose not to answer, instead shifting uneasily beside him as she tried to get comfortable in her new clothes. The whole human thing wasn't working for her. The last time she had worn 'normal' clothes, normal had been corsets and long, layered skirts. The simple shirt and pair of pants she currently had on was terribly uncomfortable, itching in places she didn't know could itch. It was torture. Plain and simple.

"We'll be greeted as soon as we land," she told him quietly, being careful to omit words that would cause a bit of worry among the others in the terminal. News had arrived by phone late the night before, informing the two of them that they had been granted sanctuary with Amelia's kin. "An escort will be provided to accompany us to the house." She patted his hand, which was clenching the hem of his own itchy shirt. "We'll be fine. Don't let the plane scare you."

"I am not afraid of the plane!" Michael protested yet again. "I just…don't like flying. But I'll get over it."

"In the next five minutes?" Selene prodded, hiding a smile as a woman by the gate announced boarding. "Come on; let's get seated, then."

Michael suppressed an involuntary shudder as he stood, reaching to the floor to grab the magazine and book of brain puzzles he had bought to keep himself occupied. "Do we really have to do this?" he asked as a last attempt to save his sanity from the grasp of changing air pressure.

Selene sighed, shaking her head. "You're worse than Erika, and she complained about everything. Now come on." She pulled out the two tickets and extended her hand, gesturing for him to go first. "I'm keeping an eye on you. No running off."

His shoulders slumped as he walked forward and through the gate. He had to consciously remind himself to breathe as his feet brought him closer and closer to the plane itself. A panic attack would do no good. Especially not now. It saddened him to think that he had just killed the most powerful lycan in existence but an airplane scared him senseless. _Childhood fears die hard_, he thought. Selene reached around him to hand their boarding passes to an obviously American stewardess. They had reached the entrance to the plane and he hadn't noticed.

The woman gave them both a large smile. "Going on your honeymoon?" she asked innocently, all beauty and no brain. Neither corrected her. "New York is a lovely place. I'm sure you'll enjoy yourselves." She looked down at the tickets. "Business class, 33 A and B. On your left."

Selene grabbed the tickets back and pushed Michael in the proper direction. The aisle was a good size, big like the plane. That made him feel a bit less claustrophobic. Of course the plane is large, he berated himself. It's an international flight.

"Here," Selene said quietly, forcing him to really get his bearings. "Four seats. Ours are on the inside." She glanced up at him, a coy smile flitting across her lips before disappearing just as quickly. "Would you like to sit by the window?"

"No," said Michael stubbornly. But he slid into the window seat anyway, not pausing for a second to see her triumphant face. Selene sat beside him and adjusted her pants over her thighs, clearly still not thrilled with her apparel. He was about to jab her about it, wanting to get her back for all her teasing, but didn't get the chance as a large man ambled down the aisle and stopped beside their row. A quick glance down at his ticket confirmed Michael's fears. The man plopped himself down beside Selene, whose eyes widened in obvious repugnance.

"I'm Bryan," he said through a think New Orleans accent. "On my way home from a trip through Asia. Where're you guys headed?"

Michael looked worriedly at Selene, who was staring at the headrest of the seat in front of her like she could set it on fire with her smoldering eyes. "Um, New York," he answered when her jaw clenched even tighter. This was going to be a very long flight.

"Beautiful city," Bryan mused. "What're you going there for?"

Michael paused, eyes darting again to Selene, who offered him absolutely no help. "Honeymoon," he supplied lamely, repeating what the stewardess had suggested before. That got Selene's attention. Those smoldering eyes turned on him, and he swore he would have burst into flames from the fury emanating from her body if it were possible.

"How nice for you two newlyweds," Bryan chuckled. "Mr. and Mrs…?"

"Cor-" _Shit. _Another of Selene's glares stopped him dead in his tracks. Okay, so the real name thing was a bad idea. "Corv…ik…inson."

"Well, it's a real pleasure to meet you, Mr. and Mrs. Corvikinson." He extended his hand and Michael had to reach over an unresponsive Selene to shake it. "And you, little lady." He stuck out his hand for her to shake as well. Michael chanced prodding her in the ribs to get her to move. Her fingers barely touched the man's palm before they were jerked back and clenched tightly in her lap. The man smiled and turned his attention away from the two of them as a stewardess walked down the aisle offering drinks before takeoff.

"Michael," Selene growled as soon as the attention was off them. "What the hell are you doing?"

Michael looked at her, thrown. "He started it," he retorted, pointing to Bryan's back. "I was just being sociable."

"You're going to expose us!" she hissed.

He didn't back down this time. "Well, we'll be exposed a lot faster if we don't speak when spoken to. What was I supposed to do? Pretend I was deaf? Didn't speak English?" When she didn't respond right away, he charged on. "Look, it seems I know how to be human more than you do. Maybe you'd benefit listening to me for once. At least when we're in such a confined space with so many people." _Christ, what am I saying? _But he didn't have a choice. Michael clenched his teeth and forced himself to meet her gaze.

"I was just as much a human as you were before I was turned!" she spat back heatedly.

Realizing he was pushing her too far, he said quietly, "Yeah, but that was a while ago, wasn't it?" Seeing her eyes flicker in momentary understanding, he continued. "Just…be nice to him. Or at least don't cut off his head with a plastic knife."

"His neck is too thick to get through even if I had a sword." Selene sighed, trying to suppress her unjustified anger. He was right, and she knew it. "Hand me that damn magazine."

Just as she settled back in her seat an announcer came over the speakers. "Welcome aboard," the pilot said enthusiastically. "If everyone would please buckle up, we're ready to take off. We're due in New York at ten pm Eastern-Standard Time."

Michael visibly tensed at the announcement. Selene glanced over at him, eyebrows furrowing as he gripped at the armrest closest to the window. "Are you all right?" she asked, worried. "You won't tear apart your seat, will you?"

Bryan laughed at her words. It seemed he had already buckled himself in and leaned back, watching the 'newlyweds' interact. She hadn't realized he'd been listening. "You afraid of flying, Mr. Corvikinson?"

Michael bristled. "Of course not," he muttered indignantly. "Let's get this show on the road."

Selene pursed her lips, refusing to look at Bryan even though she could feel his eyes on her back. "Calm down, Michael. Just breathe."

He was unable to do so when the engines roared to life, igniting the childhood fears he had tried to repress. After a moment the plane jerked as it backed out of its spot at the terminal and straightened to go down the runway. The hand on the armrest squeezed so hard the padding began to push against the seams in the fabric. Selene watched him, trying to think of something to do to help ease his obvious apprehension. Acting quickly, she reached across and pried his hand off the protesting armrest and encased his fingers with her own.

"Calm down," she whispered again, this time so only he could hear it. "If you get too scared you're going to change."

Michael felt like a little boy being reprimanded, but right then he didn't care. His other hand groped about blindly until she held it as well.

"If I had known this would be such a problem we could have traveled by ship instead. You should have said something." Her voice was soothing now, not demeaning as he had expected it to be. _Who are you, Selene? Who are you really?_

The plane accelerated down the runway, the front wheel jumping off the ground as the wings caught the air. Michael closed his eyes and squeezed her hands just as hard as he had been squeezing the armrest, but she didn't seem to be pained by it. Instead of asking him to ease off, she leaned over toward his ear and continued whispering, focusing only on keeping him from having a panic attack. "Don't worry," she repeated over and over. "Everything will be fine."

After an agonizing twenty minutes, the plane leveled out in the air. Michael breathed deeply, trying to get his heart to slow back to normal. He really did have a full-blown phobia, but he would never admit it. Selene's hands were cool in his; she made no move to pull them away as she settled back into her chair. He was terribly embarrassed at his reaction and was about to apologize when she gave him a look that clearly read, _You have nothing to feel sorry for. You're welcome._

Bryan chose that moment to lean close to Selene, interrupting the silent conversation. "Seems your husband has a bit of a fear-factor thing going," he said robustly. "_I've_ never been afraid of planes. Fly all the time."

Selene glared at him, biting back the impulse to bare her fangs. "Michael's father died in a plane crash when he was thirteen," she said evenly, not batting an eye. The lie worked. Bryan shut up. Her attention turned back to Michael, who was now staring inertly out the window, holding her hands gently in his lap. "Feeling better?"

Michael gave her a weak smile. "I guess." The planed dipped and righted itself. Turbulence. The smile turned to a grimace. "Not really. How long is the flight?" The question was met with silence. "What?" He looked at her, nausea coating his stomach.

"Close your eyes," she ordered under her breath. "Quickly!"

"What's wrong, Mr. Corvikinson?" Bryan queried, leaning into the conversation again as he balanced a cup of champagne in one of his chubby hands. "You look a little blue. Can't you breathe?"

"Give him some space," Selene demanded, frustration with the man growing by the second.

"Oh, protective little girl, eh?" Bryan mocked. Alcohol was suddenly thick on his breath. "I like that."

She had to bite her tongue to keep herself in check. Wisely choosing to ignore him, she concentrated entirely on Michael. "Listen to me," she breathed into his ear again. "You need to focus. You're just afraid. You're in no real danger." His skin took on its normal tone. "You're safe. We're both safe."

A few seconds after that, he opened his eyes and gave her a wary glance. A quick nod was all he needed to know he had succeeded in controlling himself. "Shit…" His head hit the back of his seat.

"Everything okay over there?" Bryan asked loudly.

"Fine," they said together. Selene gave her companion a tight-lipped grin, more akin to a smirk than a smile. He returned it, some strands of thick hair falling across his face as he titled his head further back. She tightened her hold on Michael's hands, offering him a contact point to focus on as a distraction from what was going on around him.

"We're safe, huh?" Michael muttered through a set jaw. "What about my poor father, the one who died in a plane crash when I was thirteen?"

Selene kicked his leg hard enough to leave a bruise. "Drop it. I was protecting you."

"Yeah, you were." She stared at him, not expecting him to actually agree with her. "Thanks."

"Sure," she responded hesitantly, waiting for him to say something else. _Don't start this again. _When no other words were forthcoming, she chose to be honest about the question he had asked before. "The flight is about ten, eleven hours long. There's a stop in Paris, but we don't have to switch planes. Will you be all right? We could get off at Paris, sail from there."

"You really think a ship will sit better with him than a plane?" Bryan butted in again, thoroughly amused by Michael's dilemma.

Selene turned and gave him one of her worst glares. "This is going to be a long enough flight without you harassing us the whole way!" she snapped, grabbing hold of her temper before she did something she'd regret.

"Whoo-ee!" Bryan exclaimed, causing the people in the rows around them to look in his direction. "A mean little Brit."

"Hey, um…" Michael spoke up, fighting through his sick stomach to come to her defense as he felt her tense with fury beside him. "You might not want to say that."

"Why not?" Bryan asked drunkenly as he threw aside his fifth empty cup.

Selene looked to Michael, giving him temporary leave to say anything he could think of. "She's…mentally unsound. She might crack." Until he said that. He instantly realized his mistake. "I-I mean, she's not…violent. Or stupid. Just…don't say anything like that, okay?"

"Mentally unsound?" Selene breathed, deadly quiet. She shook her head angrily and Michael could feel the noose getting closer around his neck.

Luckily for both of them, Bryan just laughed. "Mentally unsound!" he chuckled loudly. "I find that hard to believe! I'm a doctor, you know."

Selene's anger toward Michael shifted quickly. "If you're a doctor, why aren't you in first class?" _Leaving us alone._

"Never liked first class," he mused, just as loudly as before. "Like sitting back here, with the underprivileged." He raised his hand and smacked Selene's shoulder a few times. "You know, the people who can't afford anything but this."

"We can afford it," _you bastard_, Selene all but growled. "We just don't enjoy wasting our money. But if I had known whose company we'd be in, I'd have spent that extra to get other seats."

Bryan muttered something under his breath before pushing himself from the seat and making for the toilets. Selene watched him go, her eyes filled with hate, before she glanced back at Michael. His face was pained, she could see it immediately.

"What's wrong?" she asked, softening her voice to a nice contrast against the one she had just been using. And then suddenly she knew. "Michael." Selene could almost feel the sorrow seeping from his pores. "You're still a doctor. More of one than that pig could ever wish to be. Really. You still try to heal me, after all, don't you?"

"You don't much need it," he spat. The barb wasn't directed at her, but at the situation. And she knew that. It hurt anyway. "I had my whole life ahead of me, and then it was gone in hours and I'm left with…this." He held up their joined hands.

Selene gave him a look, catching her breath. _Isn't this enough?_

"Oh, and stewardess?" It was Bryan coming back to his seat. "Another champagne would be wonderful." The young woman he was talking to flashed him a large smile.

Selene sighed angrily. "Perhaps you should lay off the alcohol," she advised rudely. "I can already smell it dripping off your very large body."

He turned to her, a lecherous grin on his face. "I'm from New Orleans, sweet pea. You might not know this, not being from the U. S. of A. an' all, but New Orleans is a big drinking city. We know how to hold our liquor."

"As I can see," she muttered, blocking him from her sight by turning her torso back toward Michael, who was actually holding back a laugh. "What?"

He shook his head and closed his eyes. "Nothing. I've just never seen you be so…civil when there were no weapons involved."

Her eyebrows narrowed, momentarily hurt, but she pushed it away. "I can be quite civil," she replied sweetly. "But Michael," and the joking was gone as seriousness crept back, "what would you like to do about this? Would you like to get to America on a ship? Would that be better?"

Michael was honestly dumbstruck. What he saw in her face was not concern for their disguise, but genuine worry over his wellbeing. She really cared. It was never something he had let himself consider, taking for granted that she was always just as cold as she seemed to be. But she really did care for him, and this was proof. He looked up at her, meeting her eyes and feeling his breath catch. Coming back to reality when Bryan coughed into his sleeve, Michael blinked and took Selene's question into consideration.

"You know," he said finally, "I'll be fine on the plane. I know you'd like to get to New York sooner rather than later, and I'll side with that over my stomach." He squeezed her hands.

Selene nodded and glanced down at his lap, where their fingers were entwined. His skin almost burned, it was so warm. Something she was not used to. That kind of heat had left her body so long ago she could barely remember it had been a part of her. A few lines of a myth she had heard years and years ago suddenly came to mind. _"Vampires are cold because they cannot go into the sun. The moon chills their skin and blood until they're completely iced over. Lycans, on the other hand, never feel the moon's chill, as they have the sun to counter with its warmth."_ She couldn't remember who had said that, but it seemed true enough. Absurdly, she wondered if her skin would become warm again, now that she was able to go into the radiance of the sun.

"Selene?" Michael's voice brought her back. "You okay?"

A nod was all he got in the way of an answer. "Are you sure you'll be able to control your fear if we continue with the whole flight?"

"As long as you help me," he confessed, figuring it would do no good to hide anything now.

"Fair enough." Her lips pulled up on the left, as much a real smile as she could make right then.

"Hey, lovebirds," Bryan called over his shoulder, once again attracting the attention of the people around them. "Food is coming. Decide whether you want pork or beef."

"I forgot about the food." Michael paled. "What should we do? I mean, we can't eat it, can we?"

Selene thought for a moment. "I suppose we should just turn it down."

"Right, that'll go over well," he grumbled, sinking back into his seat. "We'll just refuse every meal."

"Well…" She bit the inside of her cheek, running through their options. "We'll just say that we like…natural foods?"

Hearing those words come out of Selene's mouth made Michael laugh. "Like blood."

"No, not like blood. Like…"

"Nuts and berries, right?" he supplied.

She shot him a look, but went with what he was saying. "Fine. We can say we brought our own food. Only if asked."

"Works for me." Michael shrugged. "Although I am rather hungry."

Selene kicked his leg again, hiding her own agitation at their predicament. Bryan interrupted. "So, pork or beef?"

She looked over his shoulder to see a steward at the end of their row with a cart filled with trays. "Neither," she said politely. "We're not hungry."

"Damn!" Bryan's random swear made her jump before her eyes settled on his face, which was red with shock as he dropped his spork onto the tray. "Those are some sharp canines!" He studied her even after she tightly pursed her lips. "Never seen any like 'em!"

Michael jumped in again when he saw her quickly becoming flustered. "She had them filed."

"How long ago?"

"Eh, five years?"

"Really?" Bryan leaned toward her as though it would get her to open her mouth again. "Must have been some fine work. Filed teeth usually get dull after a year. Those look like you could rip someone's throat out with 'em! Sure they're not capped? Seem a little long, in my opinion."

"What, are you a dentist?" Selene snapped before she could stop herself.

Bryan stared as she spoke, distracted. "Plastic surgeon." He glanced up at the rest of her face for a moment and flashed another smile. "I make people look young forever."

"I'm sure I won't be in need of your assistance," she stated before turning away.

"You sure?" he asked, stupidly reaching out and grabbing her chin to force her face back toward him. "I see some lines here around your eyes. You're what, twenty-five? Younger?"

Michael's eyes widened in horror. "Hey, maybe you should -"

"In a few years you'll get lines here and here as well," Bryan plodded on. Selene was trembling with rage. "I could get you a great deal on surgery. But you'd have to come down south to see me." His disgusting statement and the grin that accompanied it almost sent her over the edge. And then he just had to push his luck.

Her chin still clamped by his sweaty fingers, he clumsily lumbered on as his eyes fixed on her slightly open mouth. "You know," he slurred, "there's a medical condition called hermotidipsia. Makes people think they crave blood so they file down their teeth to get to it. Are you a little too obsessed with vampire movies?"

That was it. Years of carefully honed instincts kicked in, coupling with far too many repressed emotions to produce an impulse that was far too strong for Selene to control. She pulled her hand from Michael's iron grip, fastening it around the fat man's throat. He gasped in confusion, his drunk mind thinking he was imagining things as he went limp.

"Do not touch me!" she hissed furiously, her eyes briefly flashing blue in her rage.

"Selene!" Michael held onto her other hand as she tried to pry it loose as well. He was very aware of the people around them and tried as hard as he could to keep his voice quiet to avoid attention. No one was giving them any. Yet. "Stop it! Let him go!" He grabbed her arm with his free hand, trying desperately to get her away from Bryan, who was starting to turn purple. In growing panic, he reached over and unbuckled her seatbelt, then his own. Acting as it came into his head, he grabbed her around the waist and lifted her out of the seat – and away from Bryan, who was now passed out.

Michael took a calming breath to settle his stomach and carried her out of the row and down the aisle toward the bathrooms. "Morning sickness," he explained quickly at many curious glances. Some of the women nodded in understanding. He pushed the door open with his foot and pressed in behind her as he pulled it closed again.

"What the hell is wrong with you?" he asked wildly as soon as they were enclosed in the tiny space away from interfering eyes. "You almost killed that man!"

Selene's expression was bewildered as she finally turned to face him. "I-I don't know what came over me." But in actuality she did know. Knew very well. He had reminded her of someone. Someone she had hated.

Michael stared at her, concern written all over his face. "Are you okay now? Sheesh." He shook his head. "And you were worried about me losing control."

"Michael, I'm sorry." Her eyes begged him to forgive her. She sighed, visibly deflating. "I haven't been around humans in this kind of environment in a very long time. You were right. You know how to do this much better than I do." Lying was not an option. "Sometimes I forget how strong I am. And after living in war for as long as I have been, it's easy to forget. But I'm trying. I am."

The reality of what she said hit him hard. "I know." Her face was just as cold as it always was when he placed his hands on her cheeks. "And you're doing a wonderful job so far."

Selene snorted. "Right. I just killed a human on an airplane. I'm doing a splendid job."

"He's not dead," Michael told her, knowing exactly what he was talking about. Maybe she was right about him still being a doctor. "He's just passed out. The alcohol would have done that eventually, anyway. You just…helped it along. And to be honest, I doubt he'll remember a thing when he comes to."

The relief was welcomed as it overcame her. "You're sure he's all right?"

"Positive." He nodded and took her hand. "Let's go back and sit down. You're by the window this time."


	3. Chapter 3

**_Authors' Note: _**_The rating of this fic will be upped to **M**__ in Chapter Four. Please note this, and don't lose track. Also, there is cover art now available by link in this profile. Enjoy._

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**Chapter Three**

_Home is the place where, when you have to go there,  
They have to take you in.  
Robert Frost, The Death of the Hired Man_

The plane landed as smoothly as could be expected. It skidded down the runway, bumping the passengers around in their seats. Selene curled her lip in distaste at the condition of the pavement, broken and faded in the lights along the edge. If the whole of New York looked like this, she was ready to turn right around and take the next plane back to Europe. She glanced at Michael, taking in his scrunched face and soft grunts of discomfort. He was squeezing her hand in his again, as he had been for most of the ride.

"Welcome to New York," the captain said happily over the intercom. "We have just been informed that our gate is still being occupied by another plane. The wait time should only be another twenty minutes. Information about connecting flights will be available momentarily. Thank you all for your patience." The speaker crackled off.

Some of the children in the cabin groaned, tired and ready to curl up in bed. One little girl whined about missing her favorite television show, to which her mother quickly responded that it was a Monday; her show came on during the weekends. As the plane came to a halt before their terminal to wait for the previous flight to move, Michael released Selene's hand and let out a shaky breath.

"There," Selene prodded gently, just as glad as he was to be on the ground but doing a much better job at hiding it. "Not so bad, was it?"

He gave a tense shrug, letting out another deep breath. "Whatever."

Bryan stirred anxiously beside him. Once he had come to, a good forty minutes or so after Selene had nearly throttled him, he hadn't remembered a thing. Just as Michael had promised. He merely blinked a few times before asking for another glass of wine. Eventually the stewards stopped supplying him and he fell asleep, much to the relief of the two immortals sitting next to him. Now, though, the large man was very ready to be off the plane and on the next headed for New Orleans.

"What airport are we at?" Michael asked softly, trying to keep the annoyance out of his voice. Selene always managed to tell him as little as possible, and because of it he was in the dark more often than not. That was a little thing he wished would change before she drove him crazy by forcing him to ask so many questions.

The vampire didn't reply right away, taking her time as she reached into the small handbag she had gotten before boarding. The tickets were not hard to find, as all she currently had in the bag were two fake IDs (_borrowed_ from a drugstore passport machine in a town on their way to the airport) and Michael's magazine. She ran her finger over one of the strips of thick paper. "LaGuardia," she said finally as she fixed her eyes on the name. "What?" she snapped when she saw him tense up again.

Michael jerked at the venom in her voice. "Uh, it's nothing. I just…" He paused, wondering how much she already knew. "I used to live around here. I can't believe I didn't recognize it. Samantha and I -"

Selene cut him off before he could finish. "The two men meeting us will be by the baggage claim. Mark and David. They've already cleared us to get through customs."

"What do they look like?" he asked, trying to get a mental picture so they would be easier to spot.

"I don't know," she admitted softly, regaining her composure. "We'll know soon enough."

A few minutes later the plane began moving again, this time into the terminal itself. Bryan waved over a stewardess he had been flirting with. "I might need some help off the plane. Would you like to lend me a hand, little lady?"

The young woman smiled sweetly at him, but as soon as the man leaned down to pick up his carry-on bag from under the seat before him, she shot a worried glance over his large back. Her eyes met Selene's and she gave the other woman a panicked look. Startled at the sudden attention, Selene turned her head in the other direction. She could almost feel the stewardess's disappointment and a long-forgotten string tugged in her heart.

"I'll help," said Michael, cutting in. Bryan turned unsteadily, looking as though he might fall over. "I mean, assuming you still need help."

"Oh! Oh, I uh…" he laughed sloppily, reminding Selene of the pigs they'd had on her farm what seemed like eons ago. He stank sickeningly of rancid alcohol. "I think I got it, Mr. Corvikinson." He winked lewdly at Selene. "Besides, you got your hands full with this little wife of yours."

Selene ran her tongue over her teeth and glared daggers at his back, painfully aware of Michael's hand on her shoulder. _I don't need that, damn you. _Worse was the knowledge that she probably did, however loathe she might be to admit it.

"Got everything?" asked Michael, once Bryan was very far down the aisle.

"Yes!" She hadn't meant to snap, and the instant look of hurt on his face sent a pang of regret through her. He really had been wonderful about the whole trip, though she'd never tell him as much.

"Then let's go." One hand floating over the small of her back, Michael steered them down the aisle and out into the terminal.

_Choice, or protective instinct? _Selene gave him a look, but for once he was completely unreadable.

LaGuardia International Airport was large, crowded, and so humanly polluted that Selene found herself reeling in disgust. Ordinarily, she wasn't picky. Natural dirt didn't faze her. But the smell of residual sweat from hundreds of thousands of harried and unwashed humans…it made her stomach turn.

"Bag claim this way," said Michael, at last falling into the ease of something vaguely familiar. He was different now, though. He'd looked like a haunted man the first time Selene had spotted him in the dark subway tunnel. Now, though, it seemed something had sparked back into his eyes. And Selene was sure she had nothing to do with it.

A high-pitched squealing met them as they turned into the area set aside for the baggage claim. "What is that awful noise?" she asked, eyebrows furrowing as she resisted the urge to cover her sensitive ears.

Michael shot her a quick glance before sending his gaze over the large group of people waiting to convene with their respective parties. "The conveyer belt. It's squeaked like that for as long as I can remember." Another light lit behind his eyes and Selene suddenly realized what was triggering the change. He was home.

"There they are," she muttered, pushing ahead of her companion to meet with the two men standing aside from the other people.

One of the vampires stepped forward. "Selene, I presume?" he asked, holding out a slender hand. "I'm David."

She clasped his hand in her own for a brief moment before letting hers drop back to her side. "Thank you for greeting us, David."

Michael stood back, taking in the two men conversing with Selene. The one whose hand she had just shaken was tall and thick, seemingly covered in muscle from head to toe. His skin had a dusky natural tan to it, his hair dark and curly. Hispanic, almost. The other man, still silent and submissive, was shorter with pale skin and blond hair. A pair of wire-rimmed glasses was sitting precariously on his nose; one good sneeze would shoot them right off. If vampires _could_ sneeze, that was. Michael was taken again by how very little he knew, sending him right back down the ladder he was trying so hard to climb.

"Do you have any bags?" David questioned, bring the hybrid back to the present.

"No," Selene answered, sparing him little more than a glance. "We're carrying all that we brought."

"Mark, take her bag." He gestured dismissively to the other vampire. "This way. We should be heading out; it's a long drive."

Selene watched warily as David turned and led them from the crowded airport. Michael glanced at her before following.

"Can I carry that for you?"

She startled at the voice beside her. It was Mark, doing as he had been commanded. She wondered momentarily what his story was to be so low on the chain of command. For some reason she found it difficult to be rude to this soft-spoken vampire. Instead of snapping, Selene gave him a tight smile. "No, thank you."

Mark returned her uncomfortable smile widely. "Are you sure? It's no problem."

"Mark!" David called shouted shortly. "What are you doing back there? Come on!"

Without waiting for Selene to say no again, he gently eased the small bag off her shoulder and ushered for her to walk ahead after David and Michael. "You know," he said quietly, voice holding a faint New York accent, "I think you're going to like it here. Or at least, I hope you will." He was careful not to make eye contact.

Acting on a hunch, Selene asked, "How old are you, Mark?"

He was taken off guard by the question. "A-about two-hundred thirteen. Pretty young, right?"

"Comparatively speaking." She smirked, her suspicion confirmed. He was a servant, just as Erika had been. The circumstances were still unknown, but judging from his age he had probably been turned for that very purpose.

The air outside was thick with exhaust from planes and cars, but distinctly underlined with an autumn chill. There was no breeze, but Selene didn't need one to know that the cold would come in quickly from the north. Just as it had back home. Not for the first time, she wondered if she was doing the right thing. She had stolen Michael's life away, then jerked him away from everything he had known and thrown him into a very new situation. Guilt, an emotion she had gotten to know very well over the last few days, nearly overwhelmed her. For the first time in a long time, she was worried.

"What about you?"

"Excuse me?" She had been so absorbed in her surroundings that she hadn't been listening to a word Mark had been saying. Something about the city before he was turned?

"Your age," he clarified, adjusting his glasses. "How old are you?"

Selene was not given the chance to answer. David swirled around on the younger vampire, spitting with anger. "Do you not remember a thing I told you, you worthless little bloodsack?"

Mark blanched. "I -"

"Just get in the car." David shoved him roughly toward the driver's side of the black Cadillac, making him trip around the hood.

Selene's mouth opened quickly, ready to come to Mark's defense, but then she thought better of it. She and Michael were guests. Picking a fight would do no good. She pursed her lips, frustrated. Needing a distraction, she reached out and took hold of Michael's arm as David opened the back door. The two slid in and David slammed the door behind them. Michael met her eyes, fear evident on his face. Selene looked away.

The car started as David got into the passenger seat. "Buckle up," he ordered tightly. As Mark pulled out onto the main road, the other vampire turned around, saying acidly, "You have put everyone out of their way to make you comfortable. Be sure to show respect for those you are about to meet." He snapped back to the front.

Michael glanced to Selene again. She was looking listlessly out the tinted window. It was nearly impossible to see anything beyond the glass, and the notion made him uneasy. "Um, where are we going?"

"The coven is located in White Plains. Why?" David did not turn around again and Michael got the distinct impression that though trouble had apparently been taken to 'make them comfortable,' that did not extend into making them welcome.

"No reason," he responded quietly.

"By the way," David added offhandedly into the tense quiet. "There's a banquet tomorrow night. Held to welcome you." The way he said it made Michael's skin tingle with unease.

Selene spoke for the first time since the ride began. "I'm sure you've realized," she said, matching David's tone exactly, "that we have no formal clothes? What we are wearing now is all we have."

"That will be taken care of."

Another chilled silence fell. Michael wondered if maybe all vampires were like this with one another. Cold and uncaring. It was disconcerting. He didn't want to be with a group of people that never had a nice thing to say, where friendships were most likely frowned upon. His thoughts turned to Selene, and suddenly some of his questions had answers.

Nothing else was said. The drive, while not very long, seemed to stretch on forever. Shadows and silhouettes passed across the dark windows, giving no clue as to what was actually beyond the glass. Michael wanted to grab Selene's hand, feel the pressure of her fingers in his as she told him everything would be okay. But he resisted the urge, leaving her to the thoughts she seemed quite lost in.

After a good thirty minutes, the car pulled onto gravel and slowed to a stop. Selene instantly sat straighter, tensing as the ignition was turned off and the two vampires in front got out. She followed almost hesitantly, forcing her legs to move once she opened the door. Michael slammed the other door shut as he stood. The two of them glanced to each other before looking to the building that was their new home.

The car had pulled to the front of the huge mansion. It was curved almost in a semi-circle, rising up on all sides a good five stories. A tower rose another up the center, accenting the massive entryway at the bottom with arches and columns. The brick looked black in the pale moonlight, the lighter stone around the hundreds of windows stark against it. It looked more like a hotel than a home.

_Or more like a sanitarium_, Michael mused sourly.

Selene closed her door, the dull thump echoing against the huge wall before them. She tensed again, unable to let her guard down, as David began walking toward the front entrance. Mark was at her side before she had realized he was moving. Her bag was hooked on his arm.

"I'll show the two of you to your rooms." He gave her a reassuring smile before looking at Michael, still on the other side of the vehicle. David had disappeared inside. "I'm sure you're both tired."

Michael fell in step beside Selene as the three made their own way to the house. Mark opened the door, holding it for them to enter. The front foyer was just as impressive as the outside. The floors were rich wood, dark and finished to shine. The rugs were remarkably ornate, thick with reds and golds. The walls were painted a deep burgundy, spotted with electric wall lamps every few feet to give some light to the dusky hall. Above them the ceiling soared to the third story before leveling.

Facing them, though, was an impressive divided spiral staircase. Both sides twisted up to the second story landing, converging together at the top with a flourish of wood and gold. The handrails themselves were gold, the runner on the stairs a deep red, nearly the same as the color on the walls. Hanging down the center was the largest chandelier either of them had seen. It was still fitted for candles, for some reason, but those candles were lit. Their flickering flames reflected on the cut glass hanging from the arms and bends of bronze shaping. More glass decorated the shaping itself, seeming to glow with the medieval lighting.

"Welcome," Mark said, "to your new home."

Michael shuddered involuntarily, though the other man's voice was undeniably friendly. A chill seemed to have settled over him from the moment the doors had opened, and he was not fully convinced that it was from the chill climate preferred by vampires or the damp fall air outside.

"Michael."

He jumped at the brush of Selene's hand against his arm, and he noticed suddenly that Mark was several steps up the staircase, though he couldn't for the life of him remember seeing the other man move. It was like being trapped back inside of Lucian's memories again, only this time the experience really did belong to him.

_Please, God, tell me it isn't always like this. _

"Right," said Michael, nodding to Selene and following hastily. His feet seemed suddenly to be made of blocks of lead, and he had to concentrate on moving them one at a time in order to keep his balance on the carpeted stairs.

"It's nearly dawn," said Mark, stopping in front of a door on the second landing. He pulled a cardkey from his pocket and handed it to Selene along with her small bag, apparently willing to give them some degree of privacy. "You'll be welcomed properly tomorrow night."

Michael stood watching Mark's retreating back as it got smaller and smaller, winding around the staircase. He almost wanted to pinch himself, just to be sure he wasn't dreaming. The place was overtly formal; it didn't feel as though it had ever been lived in.

"Michael!" Selene had the door open and was gesturing to him again, impatiently this time.

"Sorry," he muttered. "Just don't quite know where I am."

"Get inside." She made no attempt to disguise the fact that it was an order, and Michael snapped to like a guilty soldier, nearly tripping in his haste to get across the threshold.

Selene closed and triple-locked the door behind them, then proceeded to flip on every light in the place. Having just managed to adjust to the dark, Michael's eyes protested at the sudden change, and for several alarming moments he could see nothing but green spots. When at last his vision cleared, he was looking at an extravagant suite. Three doorways branched off of one wall; two bedrooms and presumably a bathroom became visible as Selene banged rapidly in and out of them. The main living space was circular, both carpeted and wallpapered in black. The wall opposite the one with the doors was lined with a very long, gray-leathered, semi-circular couch. A glistening black table stood on narrow legs in the middle of the room, looking precariously fragile and too tall to be either sat or stood at comfortably. Michael swallowed hard, feeling as though he were in a jail cell, then jumped as Selene opened the bathroom door hard enough to bang it into the wall.

"What are you doing?" he asked at last, watching her open and close empty drawers like some kind of absurdly placed robot. She made another circuit of the room, uprooting sofa cushions and kneeling and running her palm along the underside of the table before acknowledging him again.

"Looking for bugs." Selene crossed her arms over her chest, looking in her ridiculously oversized clothes like a moody teenager. "There aren't any, at least that I can see."

"Selene…" He wanted to tell her that she was being paranoid, but in truth had nothing to base that assertion on outside his own wish for it to be true. Did vampires ordinarily make a habit of backstabbing their own kind? Or was it all because of him?

_I never asked for any of this. No one can blame me. _Michael shivered again, and this time it really was from the cold. Suddenly he wished he'd managed to hold onto the jacket he'd discarded in the helicopter.

"We're fugitives, Michael, however many times they may want to call us guests," said Selene tightly. "I wouldn't put it past them to keep surveillance on us, at least at first."

"Okay, so…"

"So we've nothing to do now but wait for the day to pass." Selene turned and walked quickly to the doorway of one of the bedrooms, then turned back to face him. "You'd do well to get some sleep."

_Don't do this to me. I can't take it right now. Not from you, of all people. _Michael gave her a look, the cold feeling that had plagued his stomach since getting on the plane intensifying afresh.

"And you?" asked Michael, though he wasn't sure he wanted to know the answer. Selene gave orders when she was afraid; it hadn't taken him long to pick up on that. That knowledge didn't, however, take away the sting of her words.

"I tend to follow my own advice," said Selene, turning her back on him. She did not close the door, but made no indication that he should follow, either. They had been given two separate bedrooms. Perhaps there was a reason? He'd gotten the distinct feeling on the plane that she genuinely cared for him, but perhaps she did not equate that with total sharing of her privacy?

Sighing, Michael sprawled back across one of the couches. The leather was cold to the touch in the low temperature, and he was suddenly gripped by an unbearable sadness. Staring at Selene's open doorway, Michael prepared to sit up the remainder of the day.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter Four**

_Forbidden things have a secret charm. Publius Cornelius Tacitus_

"Michael." He'd fallen asleep on the couch, and Selene felt a stab of guilt over the lines of worry that marked his face even in rest. She hadn't meant for him to be ostracized, but David's words had tightened her already-strained nerves to the breaking point, and she'd been ready to snap at the next moving thing that crossed her path, Michael or otherwise. Reaching out a hand to shake him awake, Selene paused, feeling uncharacteristically hesitant.

_You're developing a talent for belittling your allies, _she chastised herself, and sat on the couch beside him, hoping the shifting of weight would wake him instead. When he didn't, she brushed a hand lightly over his forehead. Michael tensed at the contact and sat up so fast Selene had to jump back, his breath coming hard and fast. His eyes were black when he met her gaze a moment later.

"Jesus Christ." The look of fear on his face nearly made her sick, and Selene had made the shift back into pure business-mode by the time his eyes turned their natural blue again.

"It's nearly eleven," she said shortly, standing up.

"P.M.?" Michael ran a hand through errant strands of hair, still catching his breath.

"You've slept far too long," said Selene, breezing back toward the bedroom. "They'll be expecting us at the banquet in about an hour."

"Sorry," said Michael, rubbing at one eye. "I had this…this dream." For a moment his eyes looked haunted, and Selene suppressed a shudder. That feeling was a little too close for comfort still.

"Get dressed," she said shortly, and made for the bedroom again.

"Wait."

When she turned back, Michael was on his feet, still looking disoriented. "Yes?"

"What are we gonna do about clothes?"

"In the closet," said Selene, pausing to watch his reaction.

"The closet? How did they get there?" Michael shook his head slowly, looking disconcertingly like a dog. "They weren't there last night."

"I've no idea," said Selene. "But they're there now."

He watched after her as she closed the door to the room claimed as her own. He could hear the faint sounds of her moving within. Figuring he had best get dressed as well, he went to the other bedroom and looked around for the closet. Spotting it in the side wall, he walked over and dejectedly pulled open the door. An array of blues and blacks and reds and purples met his eyes. On closer inspection, he found a nice blue silk shirt, probably the one meant for him to wear that night. He removed it from the metal hanger and threw it onto the bed. A pair of stylish black slacks was thrown to join it.

Michael gazed at the clothes on the mattress. He didn't like the idea that they had just miraculously appeared there while he and Selene had been sleeping. It was unsettling. As he picked up the pants, he heard a muffled curse from the room beside his. He resisted the urge to call out to her, instead gathering up a belt and shoes and getting dressed.

A good thirty minutes later, there was a knock on his closed door. "Michael?" Selene called. "Are you ready? We need to go."

"Yeah," he replied quickly, giving himself a last look in the mirror. He had combed out his hair, using water to smooth it so it wouldn't be flying out in all directions. The skin on his face and arms had been scrubbed with soap and water as well, giving it a healthy reddish hue. He shrugged. The blue shirt brightened his eyes. He briefly wondered if Selene would notice.

"Michael?" she asked again, still at the door.

Michael startled back to reality. "Yeah. Yeah, I'm coming." The sight that met him when he opened the door was one he was least expecting.

"Holy shit." Fighting the urge to slap a hand over his mouth, Michael was suddenly transported back to the insecurity of junior high school and his first few experiences with girls. The dress was skintight, backless, and featured a clasping open front which displayed not only cleavage, but a line of tight muscle all the way down to her navel. And it was black, of course. "I mean, uh, you look great."

"Let's go." Her voice was the same, clipped tone that he was used to, but she made no move to leave, instead running her eyes over him in a way that he imagined mirrored his own curious gaze. When she finally did turn, he noticed that the skirt was slit on the side, nearly up to her hip. And she had some sort of antique-looking silver clip in her hair, holding the mess of black waves up off her neck. The glint of a dagger in a leg sheath made him shiver as she started to walk. Michael felt like he ought to take her arm, or in some other way offer to escort her, but he couldn't seem to get his muscles to work.

"Are you all right?"

He blinked as her question reached his ears. "Fine."

Selene raised her chin as she looked away and reached to open the main door. Mark was standing in the hallway, dressed in simple black finery. Michael wondered how long he had been standing there, but didn't think it right to ask.

The other vampire gave them both a wide smile. "If you'll follow me, I'll take you to the ballroom." His eyes lingered a moment longer on Selene. "This way."

The halls themselves seemed exactly as they had the night before. The building itself was a maze, everything turning back into itself or branching off in separate directions. Every door and carpet and decorative table looked exactly the same as the last. Michael could feel his tension rising as his sense of awareness was thrown off with every turn. As much for himself as for her, he reached out and put his hand on the small of Selene's back. She glanced at him, mildly surprised.

Before long, the sound of voices rose. A large doorway loomed before them, arching up to the ceiling. The molding was flowered with ornate designs, dizzying in their numbers and size. Through the arch was a huge ballroom. The floor was laid in a dazzling checkered pattern of marble and obsidian, spanning hundreds of feet from one end of the room to the other, spotted near the wall by tall black columns. Windows lined the walls themselves, opened to let in the cool night air.

A stage was set at the far end, and set upon this stage was the main table. It was empty. The other tables placed the length of the room, though, were almost all full. Michael had never seen so many vampires in one place. His muscles tensed in sudden fear.

Mark escorted them to one of the tables set near a wall. "Food will be served shortly." He gave a polite nod and left them.

As soon as he was gone, Michael turned to Selene. "Food?" he whispered worriedly. "I-I thought -"

Selene glanced at him with a look akin to pity. "Vampires can live on blood alone," she told him, "but some of us do not give up on our old lives easily. Food does not poison us."

"But -"

She cut him off again. "I know you can't eat it, Michael." She placed a hand on his arm. "I won't eat either. I gave up the luxury a long time ago." Her lips twitched in a kind of smile. "Don't worry."

"Why can't I…?" He trailed off, completely confused once again.

Selene shook her head, the gesture saying she either didn't know or didn't want to talk about it just then. She turned away, gazing about the room until she found who she was looking for. With a slight wave of her hand, Mark reappeared at her side. "Yes?"

"Would you please inform whoever is in charge of serving that neither Michael nor I care for any food?" She fixed her eyes upon him, making it impossible to say no. Mark gave a quick nod and left the ballroom to do as she had asked.

Before either of them was able to say another word, a hush fell over the large crowd. Eyes turned to the old stage, where a group was slowly walking up the steps to the table. The party consisted of two women, a blonde in red and a brunette in gold, and three men, all dressed similar to Michael save one. This vampire was dressed completely in silk, a belt of gold wrapped around his thin waist. Rings of the same adorned his fingers, a shining stud shone from his left ear. A plait of long blonde hair fell down his back. It was this man that spoke.

"Could I have your attention, please?" His voice poured through the room like honey. It was intoxicating. "First of all, I would like to welcome the newest additions to our coven. I'm sure they will enjoy their new lives here with us." He nodded toward Selene and Michael. Scattered applause broke the chilled silence. "Second, I would like to congratulate Christina and Hector on their recent betrothal." This time excited whispers broke out through the large group. The man redirected the attention with a glamorous sweep of his hand. "Let the feast begin!"

"Here comes trouble," muttered Michael, and Selene turned to see David hovering over her shoulder. She took a quick breath, attempting to hide her discomfort at the ease with which he'd snuck up on her. Normally she could sense another being from several feet away, vampire or otherwise. Upon closer inspection, she could see the group from the stage threading its way through the tables as well, partially hidden in the dim light. _Trouble is right. _

"Lovely to see you again," said Selene flatly, not giving David the chance to speak. _Now tell us what's going on or get the hell out of here. _Her fingers itched for the poorly concealed dagger resting against her thigh, more of an intimidation than an actual defense. Little good it would do her in an entire roomful of equally skilled combatants.

"Lovely would not be my choice of word," said David, smooth and full of ice. "But let's not quibble over semantics. His Eminence wishes to speak to you personally."

Michael's eyes flicked around nervously; he clearly had no idea how to act in such a situation. Selene caught his gaze for a moment, then shrugged. She didn't either, but she wasn't about to let him know it. She'd never had occasion to visit the New World coven, the war taking up all her attentions, but even so, things were not as she had expected to find them. Selene gave an almost imperceptible nod of acknowledgement as the entourage arrived from the stage; she knew she was likely expected to babble on about being honored, but that was decidedly not her style.

"Hello." The blonde vampire knelt to kiss Selene's hands, the rings on his long fingers glinting in the light. She cast her eyes away, decidedly unimpressed.

"Hello," parroted Selene, keeping her eyes on the smooth black tabletop.

"You look stunning tonight," said the vampire, ghosting a finger over her chin to make her look back up. Selene clenched her hands into fists, suppressing the instinct to draw her dagger. "And that accent of yours is absolutely charming. What a pleasure to have you here."

"I don't recognize you," said Selene boldly. She caught the blonde vampire's eye for the first time, and thought she detected a hint of uncertainty there. "But then I never knew Amelia very well either. Pity."

"Ah, yes," said the vampire, an edge slipping into his voice. "You were _Viktor's_—issue." His lip curled in obvious distaste at this last. Shaking himself, the vampire rose elegantly and crossed to Michael's side of the table, eyeing him like fresh meat. "And what do we have here?"

"It's an honor to meet you," said Michael, sounding very uncomfortable. _You've learned the groveling thing rather fast, _thought Selene, watching in distaste as the blonde man took Michael's hands as well, examining them with a cold detachment.

"And what might you be?" asked the vampire, his voice nearly dripping with condescension.

"I'm…I, uh, I'm Selene's—" He cleared his throat awkwardly. "Michael. I'm Michael."

"Yes, Michael. But I asked _what _you are."

"He's a Corvinus," Selene interrupted pointedly, hoping this strange leader would make the connection. "He saved my life."

A cloud passed over the blond man's face. Slowly, he got to his feet, nodding to David. Selene let out a breath she hadn't known she'd been holding, and the growing black at the rims of Michael's eyes slowly abated.

"Enjoy your evening." And with that, he was gone.

Selene motioned for Michael to lean across the table so they could talk without being heard, but Mark instantly appeared at his elbow, his head bobbing like an eager puppy.

"Can I, uh, get you anything now?" He had a very large tray of pastries balanced precariously on one hand, and was staring raptly at Selene, oblivious to the raucous from the next table over, as several vampires attempted to get his attention.

"Thank you," said Selene quickly, "but I believe Michael and I would like to retire now. We're still tired from the trip."

"Right," said Michael hurriedly. "You know, first night—day—in a new place and all. Didn't sleep very well."

Mark's face filled instantly with concern. He practically dropped the tray of pastries in the middle of their table, and the noise from the next one over grew louder in dismay. "Of course. Of course you need your rest. May I show you back to your room, then?"

"If you're willing to risk getting killed by that table."

"Oh!" yelped Mark. "Oh, of course." He scooped the tray of pastries back up, deposited them on the nearby table, and was back in a flash. He offered his arm to Selene, and she took it lightly, shrugging at Michael. Mark looked like his face might crack open, he was grinning so wide.

The trip back to their room seemed to take a fraction of the time they'd spent getting to the banquet hall, and Selene wondered whether the place really was as full of twists and turns as it appeared. Mark broke away from her as they reached the door, gave a quick bow, and darted away, looking dazed.

"That was—" said Michael, and Selene put up a hand for silence as she slid her card through the door and pulled it open. She froze as the table caught her eye; someone had placed a tray with two dark wine glasses of blood on it. Apparently their disinclination to eat at the banquet had been duly noted. _But how the hell did they get in here?_ Obviously, someone else had a key. Someone very good.

Michael fell back onto the couch, sighing heavily and running a hand restlessly through his hair. The front of his shirt had come unlaced somewhere along the line, and he was breathing hard. He'd been treated terribly, and Selene felt an uncommon swell of sympathy at his forlorn look.

"Jesus Christ," he muttered. "That was unreal. Are they always like that?" _Please say no_, begged the helpless look in his eyes.

Selene gave him an understanding glance. "You'll get used to it," she said quietly. He looked away, staring at the wall. "We're cold by nature, Michael," she continued in way of easing his frustration. "It's hard to get beyond that with any vampire."

It was an admission he hadn't ever expected to hear her make, and, spoken aloud at last, the words sent a thrill through him. Not daring to make a sound and break the spell, Michael got to his feet, moving to stand just in front of her, close enough that he could smell the subtle scent of soap on her. Her eyes flickered over his face, shocking him as always with the intensity of emotion there.

"Guess I should count myself lucky then," said Michael at last, as she leaned in, silently granting him permission to kiss her. Her lips were cold against his, a chilling reminder of his new life. He shuddered. Selene pressed herself against him, and Michael caught his breath at the sensation of silk sliding against his bare skin. She worked her hands slowly up his back to tangle in his hair, and he got the sudden impression that she was enjoying torturing him.

"Jesus," said Michael again, enjoying the way the corners of her lips quirked upward in the barest hint of a smile. She brought long fingers up to his throat, effortlessly working the lacing all the way free. The shirt flapped loose about his shoulders, but Selene made no motion to further remove it, brushing her lips over his collarbone instead.

For one incoherent moment, Michael found himself lost in her gaze, seeing not the meticulously competent warrior he was used to, but the lost young woman he'd glimpsed in that disembodied moment floating above the pier.

_Michael, look at me. Please. _

_ You don't want me to talk. _

"I can take it," he heard himself say softly. "What you don't want me to see. I can take it."

Very slowly, Selene took his hands and placed them on her waist, her eyes demanding his touch because he knew her tongue could not. Silently, Michael leaned in again, giving her a very human kiss and bringing his fingers to the clasp at the back of her neck. The dress was as pliant as it looked, and slid to the floor in a whisper of fabric. He turned to the dagger next, waiting for her nearly imperceptible nod before taking the blade and placing it on the table.

"You've got all my weapons now," said Selene, looking strange in the soft light. "You saw everything."

Her voice was so quiet Michael wondered for a moment if he might have imagined the words, but the fear in her eyes confirmed what he'd heard. Brushing his hands over her bare shoulder blades, he drew her in against his body, enjoying the shared strength of their embrace. Selene turned her head against his shoulder, her hair tickling Michael's chin. For a moment he was nearly afraid to breathe, realizing by the pounding of her heart against his chest that she must feel equally vulnerable.

_ We're cold by nature, Michael. It's hard to get beyond that with any vampire. _

At last Selene pulled away, lacing her fingers through his and pulling him toward the bedroom. Michael sucked in another breath, feeling strangely that she was ushering him into her territory. Another momentary wave of sadness washed over him as he wondered whether he'd ever feel totally comfortable with Selene as a lover.

Kicking the door shut out of habit, Selene slid her hands under the hem of his shirt, running them all the way up his chest beneath the silk. Michael gasped in a breath and took hold of her wrists, stepping away and working the shirt over his head, disposing of his pants a moment later. Selene caught him by the shoulders, returning her attention to his chest, moving her fingers over his heart as though looking for the invisible scars.

"I could see your heart," she managed at last, and Michael wondered whether she knew she was speaking aloud. "It was in shreds."

Kissing her again, Michael pushed her gently back onto the bed, climbing up beside her and covering her body with his own. Selene drew in a breath, emotions breaking past her eyes and into the rest of her face, taking him back to the pier yet again. Michael winced. If he was having memories this vivid, he didn't want to think what she must be seeing. Her hands on his hips pulled him from his reverie; her grasp was cool against his skin, guiding him down. He gasped at the contact, surprised and nearly floored by the intensity of his own emotion.

Moving against her, Michael found himself back at the pier, floating bodiless and filled with agonizing love. Closing his eyes, he saw Selene cradling his bloodied head, her long fingers working through torn strands of blond hair. He saw the tears mingling with drops of water from her own hair, cutting harsh lines in the grime on her face. He buried his face in her shoulder, coming back into himself with a harsh jolt as they reached the breaking point together.

"Michael," she murmured in a voice that was totally alien, "I love you."


End file.
